


Morning Person

by Lmaooooonade



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: 2 pm is too early for some people ig, Bad Parenting, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Choking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Local gross hungover man just wants to be left alone, Please someone save this boy, Someone's headcanon, Teenage Murdoc, That is not how you should make tea, Violence, We escalated, being a morning person to avoid your father is some kinda energy, there is language so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-10 23:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17435540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lmaooooonade/pseuds/Lmaooooonade
Summary: A young boy cherishes the mornings where he can just exist. Things might not be great, but he can at least exist peacefully for a while.Rated Teen for my fucking language.Based off the headcanon of another creator I very much admire, please inquire within.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Weh, this is based on Tumblr user yoel-o-fellow's headcanon of Murdoc being a morning person to avoid his father. Please take this humble offering from such a creature as myself.
> 
>  
> 
> "Young Murdoc became a morning person because mornings would be the best time to avoid his father.  His father had a horrible habit of sleeping in way past noon."
> 
>  
> 
> Pls go look at Yoel's Tumblr, and enjoy their art and headcanons if you don't already they have such a unique style and it's very emotional there you'll love it.

The weekend was a rainy one, and while most kids would have slept in Murdoc took it upon himself to wake up and head to the kitchen to eat. Well, if he could find something, that is. He exited his room in his ratty-tatty pajamas and crept to his father's room, the door was wide open. He peeked in and saw his father, stomach down, on the bed with the arms of someone wrapped around him. The young boy could smell the alcohol on him from where he stood.

Murdoc knew he had gotten home not too long ago, the noise he and the giggling bimbo made coming up the stairs had been enough to wake him. And the maybe fifteen minutes before they passed out were noisy enough as well. That had been about 4:00. But the heavy snores signaled that he would be able to take it easy until at least two in the afternoon.

Murdoc quietly pulled the door closed and head towards the stairs. He tiptoed down, maneuvering around the creakiest steps to avoid waking his older brother who slept a tad lighter than their brick of an alcoholic father. Hannibal's room was the one closest to the stairs, and the young boy preferred  _ not _ to get his ass whooped this early. He hugged the wall until he made it to the bottom and a wave of relief washed over him as he walked towards the kitchen.

It was a fucking mess, as per usual. Murdoc sighed as he looked to the counter, there was a half loaf of bread, it had been dropped off nearly a week ago by those church people who enjoyed helping the less fortunate. That sure was Murdoc, but he couldn't fathom why anyone would like helping him, or his family.

But before the possibility of bread could be addressed, tea was in order. If there was anything that was in abundance in the kitchen besides alcohol, it was tea. But of course, the teapot on the stove was empty, those sodding gits he lived with couldn't be bothered to fill it after they'd been the ones who emptied it. Not that he fancied using the stove right now anyways. He took a cup that smelled clean and ran the tap as hot as he could. He chucked a teabag in the cup and filled it with hot water. After turning off the tap he placed his hot tap tea on the table.

Turning back to the counter Murdoc opened the plastic bread bag and pulled out two slices. He looked at them and frowned. The crust on top was moldy, how fucking typical. This could be remedied, not that it was hygienic, but he didn't care. Food was food. He grabbed a knife from a drawer and cut off the moldy bits. “Lovely.” He said to himself.

Murdoc promised himself that when he was older and famous, he would never have to cut the mold off bread again. He tossed it on a plate he had cleaned last night and brought it to the table. The fridge wasn't much better than the rest of the kitchen, it was kinda gross in there. Many beer bottles, a gallon of milk that was more than a few days past the date, and oh? A jar of jam? “Don't mind if I do,” Murdoc said softly as he took the jar.

The young boy brought the jam to the table and using the knife he had used to cut the bread, spread a good amount of jam onto the slices. It was red and the jar had no label. Strawberry or raspberry? It didn't matter, not right now. Jam sandwich for breakfast. Boom. Done. Murdoc put away the jam and checked on his tea. It appeared to be done so he removed the bag and chucked it in the bin, it just sadly thumped against the inside of the container and slid down on top of some other garbage.

Mornings were a favorite for Murdoc. He didn't need to race his brother for a portion of food and didn't have his father rushing him to get his “ _ responsibilities _ ” out of the way so he could drink. The boy saw a pack of cigarettes on the table and grabbed it. They were his now. Any cigarettes left unattended made its way into his stash. Not that his father or brother cared, but he liked to pretend they did. Scratch that, they did care! They cared that he stole it from them, but that was about it. He gave the small rectangular pack a shake, just over half a pack? Score.

Murdoc took a big bite of his jam sandwich, the jam was raspberry, how disgusting. But he needed to eat, and this may be his only chance today so down his throat it went. He wolfed it down and turned his attention to his tea. Could you call it tea if you didn't boil the water? Probably not. He took a gulp to wash away the taste of raspberry from his mouth. It was pretty weak, but he drank it all up anyway.

With breakfast done Murdoc abandoned his dishes where they were since nobody cared,  and stashed the cigarettes in the pocket of his pajama pants as he made his way to the front room. The young boy pulled the curtains open and sat in his father's chair, pulling a book out of a pile next to it. It was peaceful in the Niccals household for once.

When Hannibal was finally roused, around oh, 10:30? He straight up ignored Murdoc, he just left the house, to be a hooligan with his skinhead buddies, no doubt. He was old enough to do as he pleased, and what he pleased was not babysitting his little shit of a brother. Murdoc was able to relax with his father's books, a few cigarettes, and complete silence until the clock struck two.

Yelling was heard from upstairs, and that was Murdoc's queue to abandon his spot in the chair. The woman from his father's bed came down the stairs hastily and scoffed upon seeing him. “Disgusting like your father.” She said.

“You slept with him, tart!” Murdoc retorted as he headed up the stairs to change his clothes. It was time to make himself scarce and go sit under a bridge for a few hours or something. He didn't want to be here with how his father practically woke up screaming at a prostitute at 2 pm. It wasn't his scene, man. There were better things than this in store for Murdoc Niccals, but as they say, all in good time.

 


	2. In 'til 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian Niccals doesn't typically mind a little afternoon delight, but he just wants this woman gone as soon as possible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bonus, I wanted to add this argument to the first chapter, but decided against it at the last minute.
> 
> But here it is, and here you are!

It wasn't often Sebastian would bring a woman home, it was probably too often for his children's tastes, but a man has needs and in time they would understand what that meant. Even so, Sebastian would usually have is manly needs met in the back alley behind a pub, in abandoned buildings, or in the occasional graveyard. Most women who were drunk enough to be okay with sleeping with him found one of those places acceptable. But not the woman he brought home last night.

He couldn’t remember her name, Tammy? Tabitha? Something that started with a T. But she was the pickiest “date” he had slept with in a while. She insisted they go to his place, fine they were here. She insisted in changing position nearly every three minutes and Sebastian clearly remembered just wanting it over with. And he was ripe with regret (a rare emotion for him) as he began to wake up.

He would have slept in for another hour or two, but this dumb bimbo was kissing at his shoulder and rubbing his back until he woke up. “Ooh, good morning sleepy head.” The woman said. Sebastian rolled his eyes and looked at the clock beside his bed. 1:55. Too early in the day for affection for him. 

“It's nearly two.” He muttered as he sat up, looking at her. Blonde, chesty, smudged makeup. Seems the annoying up type.

“Oh, come on Jacob. I figured you'd be up for a little more fun! A little afternoon delight as it were~” She cooed, leaning in towards him.

“I'm not sure where you got your information from, but I'm not.” He said as he pulled away from her. She must be under the impression that he’s interested in anything more than just one night stands. 

“But wasn't last night fun?” She asked, scoffing at the thought that a man wouldn’t want another go with her.

“It was, but now it is the day, and you need to shove off, love.” Sebastian said a little aggressively, as he pulled on the underwear he had on the night before. He had hoped lying about the pleasantness of it all would keep things calm. It didn't.

“But you said you loved me last night!” The blonde shouted at him, she looked him over, there were deep scratches on his back that were in different stages of healing. She didn't put those there, this man was a whore.

“Couldn't love a woman who can’t be bothered to call me daddy.” Sebastian said back as he grabbed his robe from the post of his bed. This seemed to set her off.

“That's disgusting, why would I call you daddy?!” She shouted, unaware of the child downstairs who could hear the yelling.

“Oh just shove off already you stupid cunt!” He yelled back, her nasally voice irritated him to the core, why was it always the obnoxious sounding ones who wanted to argue? His voice was dripping with the same venom he would spit at his children. Maybe this tramp would get the picture.

And she did, because she simply threw a pillow at him as he slipped into his slippers and she got out of bed. She began to grab her clothes. “You're disgusting!” She spat as she hastily got dressed and head out of his bedroom.

Sebastian just chuckled and threw his pillow back onto the bed after loosely trying his robe off. He heard his son interact with the annoying woman at the bottom of the stairs. Tart. Nice one. One day the little twat would do him proud, if he ever amounted to anything, that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little more planned, a final interaction between Murdoc and his father.
> 
> It is either going to be neutral with a little artificial sweetener or completely awful, I haven't decided yet but I'll get there when I get there.
> 
> Maybe I'll do both and it'll be a choose your own adventure type deal.
> 
> Leave a comment if you have a preference as to which you'd rather see done. 👀


	3. Tea and a nap.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc is a teenager now, but still manages to enjoy his peaceful mornings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a scene of child abuse in which Murdoc is choked by his father during an argument. The section in which this happens is italicized if you wish to not read that kind of material ease skip the entire italicized section there is a bolded warning in brackets before and a bolded note in brackets after to help return you to the normal content.
> 
> The italicized section is only to give context to the bruising on his neck and you do not have to read it to enjoy the rest of the story! Please take care.

Another dreary English morning was upon the Niccals household to kick off the weekend. Now, it was just mostly just Murdoc and his father. Hannibal was around as little as he possibly could be, crashing at his skinhead buddies places, with the occasional girl. Murdoc no longer had another body to act as a buffer between himself and his father, the Niccals household was a regular warzone.

He looked to a small alarm clock he kept beside his bed, he always woke up at 5:30, so there was no need for the alarm feature, but he always set it on the days he needed to work. Murdoc tended to work odd, temporary jobs that needed him at weird hours. But today he was free, no being forced to contribute to society today, not for him! Okay, well he wasn't free either, he would have to spend his day either tiptoeing around his father, locked in his room, or under a bridge somewhere smoking and drinking. But for now it was the morning, and he could relax.

Murdoc pulled on some pants and exited his room with a shirt slung over his shoulder. He could hear snores from his father's room, he pulled it shut as he passed, the man could have literally been sawing logs and the teen wouldn't have known the difference. He made a beeline to the bathroom and left the door open, he didn't need to shut it when his father was the only other one home, because he was always either downstairs drunk or in his bed asleep.

Upon looking in the mirror Murdoc frowned, he could see bruises on his neck from the fight they had a few nights ago.

[ **If you do not want to read a scene containing sensitive content: graphic violence/child abuse. Please skip this entire italicized section, thank you.** ]

 

_ His father had been drunk, as usual, and was looking for a fight. “You might as well just kill yourself, seeing as I never wanted you here in the first place!” He yelled. _

_ “You had options, old man. Could have given me up or left me to die! Would have preferred either, honestly.” Murdoc replied, even at this age he was rather indifferent to the possibility of death. Ever since the dinner lady incident, he considered death a viable option for dealing with his problems. “Maybe  _ _ you _ _ should have killed yourself the first time my mother left you and we wouldn't be-” that set it off. _

_ Murdoc hadn't been able to finish his sentence because his father had tackled him to the ground. Sebastian's long fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezed hard. “You stupid twat!” He yelled at him as his son struggled against him. Had Murdoc not been taken by surprise he could have forced the old man off of him, but the shock of his father actually choking him had been too much. _

_ “You don’t get to say anything about her!” He continued, his eyes were wild with hatred. “I ended her and I could end you if I so pleased!” He spat, knowing full well his son had seen him the night he came home covered in her blood. Sebastian shook him as well, forcing Murdoc's head to slam against the hardwood floor of their home. _

_ Murdoc grabbed his arms and dug his nails into his father's flesh, he wasn't about to die like this. He struggled for air and dragged his nails down as the corners of his vision started going dark. The combination of his head hitting the floor and lack of oxygen were starting to catch up. _

_ Sebastian was so enraged that he hardly noticed the pain, but it did draw him out of it a little and he let Murdoc’s neck go and quickly stood up, glaring down at him as though he were garbage. “You ever speak of your mother again and I’ll finish the job.” He spat at him. _

_ Murdoc had sat up and was breathing heavily and coughing he pushed himself away from his father and put a hand to his neck, he was scared of another attack from his father. He still couldn't believe the old man had actually done that, Murdoc always knew his mother was a subject you simply did not talk about, and now he for sure knew why.  _

 

[ **This is the end of the section containing sensitive content.** ]

Murdoc put his hand to his throat, running his fingers over the bruising. It definitely looked like hands, when he was at the store the day after the incident buying some things, people knew, but nobody cared. He could feel everyone staring at the hand shaped bruises on his neck, but nobody cared enough to ask if he was okay. That was the curse of being in a family that just everyone hated or as scared of.

Murdoc snapped out of it and ran the cold water, cupping his hands he leaned over the sink and splashed his face with it. He didn't need to be thinking about it. He needed to have his good morning. He would not let the creeping memories of his father nearly killing him take away his goddamn mornings. He grabbed his shirt and pressed it to his face to dry it, he didn't care, the shirt would dry.

He pulled his shirt on and hastily made his way out of the bathroom, down the creaky steps and into the kitchen. Murdoc started the stove after lifting the kettle to make sure it still had water in it and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pants pocket. He lit it and turned on a small radio that he kept on the kitchen table as he took is first draw off it, it was something one of his neighbors had thrown away, it still worked, and he could enjoy a little music in the mornings.

The station had been changed, it was playing classical music. Had he changed it on accident? Had someone changed it out of spite? He didn't know. But he left it on. Murdoc might not have looked it, but he could appreciate the mastery of classical music and how it always told a story. Right now it was something soft and playful, he didn't know what it was, but it made him feel good.

As the kettle whistled Murdoc set a teabag in a clean cup and poured the hot water over it, letting it rest on the counter. He had an idea, a stupid idea, but an idea. He unplugged the radio and brought it to the living room, set it on the small table next to his father's chair and plugged it back in. He hadn't indulged in some morning reading in quite a while. Murdoc went back to the kitchen and got his tea, it had steeped for three minutes, that some enough for him. He tossed the teabag in the trash and made his way to the chair, sitting in it much as his father would have, like a mess.

His legs over one arm of it and crossed as his shoulders rest against the other. He grabbed a book from the pile and began to read. A collection of Poe's work, how wonderfully gloomy and appropriate.

Between the music and getting lost in the book, Murdoc only finished half of his tea before falling asleep, and it was only half past ten. The music had lulled him into a false sense of security and he, for the first time in quite a while, felt safe.

It was about an hour later that his father woke up, half past eleven, it was early for him. Sebastian got his robe and slippers before making his way downstairs. He slipped into the kitchen and started the kettle, Murdoc always filled it at night, the good-for-nothing was always on the ball about that at least.

After preparing his tea Sebastian looked around for the small radio one of his sons had plucked out of a neighbor's trash, he couldn't find it. Murdoc must have taken it somewhere, he was the one who used the thing the most. He made his way to the living room and saw Murdoc in his chair. “Oi, you lump, get out of my-” he began but he stopped as he heard soft piano music emitting from the small radio.

Upon closer inspection, Sebastian noticed that Murdoc was asleep. He rolled his eyes and saw the half-empty cup of tea resting on top of the small radio. It had occurred to him that he  _ could _ wake his son up by dumping the cold remains of his tea on him. But that would be a waste of tea, and he would also risk getting his book and chair wet, and we couldn't have that now, could we?

With a small sigh, Sebastian just turned the radio's volume up a tad and went over to their worn down couch, resting himself against one of the arms as he sipped his tea. The man stretched his legs across the couch and looked upon Murdoc. He looked a lot like his mother, there were a few features here and there. But when he was sleeping and relaxed, he had the same expression she did. All the green skin and slightly pointed ears in the world couldn't hide the fact that he was his mother's child.

The clock struck noon and a clock somewhere in the house chimed, this woke Murdoc up. “Shit.” He muttered as he rubbed his eyes, he sat up and looked around the room, he could just feel his father's presence in the room. And his feeling was right, there he was, reclined on the couch, looking at him. Murdoc's heart filled with her as he jumped out of Sebastian's seat.

“Sit back down, Murdoc,” Sebastian said as he sipped his tea, his cup was now half tea, half room temperature liquor. The radio was playing another soft. Murdoc didn't quite know how to react other than to sit back down in his father's chair, he swallowed hard. “We don’t waste tea in this house.” He began as he pointed to the mug sitting next to the chair. “Finish it.”

Murdoc just looked to it and grabbed it, it was bone cold. But he took a sip of it anyways. He didn't care it was cold, tea was still tea, he scared that he had let himself be vulnerable so close to this time of the day. Sebastian set a hand on his thigh and went back to his tea, his eyes closed and his fingers mimicked the key presses of the piano’s notes. Murdoc didn't notice. “I'll turn it off.” He said, reaching for the knob.

“Leave it,” Sebastian said. “I haven't heard this in quite a while, so leave it.” Murdoc could tell his father was sober because of his tone. If he had been drunk, he would have started yelling right away.

“Right then…” Murdoc said as he finished the last of his tea. “You're the one who changed the station.” He said softly, remembering now that his father did have an affinity for classical music, and Hannibal did not. His father could on occasion be found playing the stand up that was against the wall to the kitchen. The piano was among one of the few pieces of furniture that were free from all signs of neglect. His father took more care of his piano than he did of his own children.

“Oh what an astute observation, I see nothing slips by you, Murdoc.” Sebastian said, rolling his eyes.

“Don't have to be a cunt about it, you bastard.” Murdoc muttered as he got up and took his cup to the kitchen.

“Pot calling the kettle black, Murdoc.” Sebastian called after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed a few extra headcanons from Yoel-o-fellow for this, particularly those of how Sebastian sits in his chair (Murdoc mimicking it is my own) and Sebastian being the reason for the death of Murdoc's mother.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed please comment! Also please really do go visit yoel-o-fellow on Tumblr! I love their stuff.
> 
> And if you were wondering, yes I have made tea like that, desperate times have called for desperate measures, kiddos.


End file.
